


October heart, like a pomegranate

by Herbertholder



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Fluff and Humor, Other, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbertholder/pseuds/Herbertholder
Summary: Elliott Witt owned a farm. It was a nice farm, a big farm, he would even protest that it was the best he'd ever seen.Elliott lived alone, this was until one day, he met a scarecrow.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	October heart, like a pomegranate

Elliott Witt owned a farm. It was a nice farm, a big farm, he would even protest that it was the best he'd ever seen. With fields of hay, a colorful sky of purple and yellow as the October chills returned to this land.

Owning such a beautiful countryside was a large accomplishment from a man of thirty-one. Passed down by his mother, his brothers had left for wars, why would Elliott ever want to leave this heavenly land?

Chores to keep him distracted. He would sickle the wheat with his rusted scythe and would deliver eggs to his local stores. Elliott lived alone, nearly, apart from stinky farm animals.

This was until, one day, he saw a scarecrow. Scarecrow? He had never built a scarecrow, and it haunted his lands. So he would go and investigate this scarecrow, that seemed to move on its own and water his plants. Well, he could say for one, that it didn't do the job it was meant to be doing, crows flocked around and cawed loudly.

As soon as he got close, the scarecrow glanced in his direction and he could nearly see glinting eyes from underneath that carved pumpkin focusing on the orange of his dungaree.

"Who are you?" He demanded with his hands in his hair.

"I am Bloodhound." Bloodhound? And they spoke, and Elliott would have been afraid if not for the calm way they stood.

"What- you mean, like the dog?"

"Perhaps, but I am human, just like you."

"Who am I to trust you!" 

"Do as you wish, Elliott."

He huffed just short of a gasp, was this weird scarecrow human stalking him? How did they know his name? But they weren't facing him anymore, and they turned back around lamely.

Elliott raced after them in demand of information. "How long have you been watching me? And what are you doing on my farmland!?"

As Elliott's heart raced, it was nearly as if Bloodhound became more calm. 

"This was our land long before it became yours," 

"Our?"

"Not any more, now it is only me."

"Hey, that's kinda like me!"

They exchanged glances, Elliott smiled through an awkward wince. "I mean- I, I'm great all alone, by myself, but, well- ha." His words trailed off, Bloodhound returned to their actions of pushing their foot through the dirt and dropping small seeds into the created hole; they would then pat the dirt gently back in its place and sprinkle water from Elliott's bright yellow watering can.

"So do you, well, live here?" Elliott asked, and he had leant over so now he sat in front of the scarecrow-ly dressed being and watched them.

"Nei, I live in these foreign Woods."

"Wow, I like the forest." Elliott attempted to boast but it didn't land, his farm was surrounded by thick trees, but he tried to avoid going deep within. Elliott was not ready to get lost and become a part of nature.

"Then, why are you here now?" He went to ask, just endless questions. But Bloodhound's plant helmet turned to look towards him again, and they pulled one last weed out before standing and patting dirt into their pockets.

"I do not wish to answer any more questions, you tire me." Elliott wanted to retort, he had tons of questions like why they wore the pumpkin getup, why a thick accent tinted their words and why they hummed to the surrounding birds that sang. A raven came down to rest on their shoulder, it was bigger and picked the dry outside of their pumpkin face.

"This is Artur, we shall continue to work together." And then Bloodhound held their hand out for Elliott to shake, it was gloved and when Elliott enthusiastically leant towards it, the Raven picked holes through his own garden gloves with its beak. It was warm, and only greater sufficed to Bloodhound's existence as a human.

"I sure hope these birds are trained, my crops have been growing for far too long."

"Our crops," they corrected. Elliott threw an impulsive stare towards them, embarrassed and dumbfounded by the way that they had taken his business. This was his farm, not theirs.

Elliott Witt fled the scene, Bloodhound's carved pumpkin eyes seemed to follow him as he left.

This was how it was for a week. Elliott woke up and boxed the eggs from his chicken coop, left to the stores, came back, picked fruit from the orchards, watched Bloodhound working their little garden and then went to sleep.

-

He drove his apple green truck all the way to town, looking good' he smiled at his own glassy reflection from the passengers window. With a huff, he dropped the cartons of eggs down onto the table, and smiled while he waited for the young woman to give him his rewards. Her nails made noises as she tapped across her calculator, she chewed gum.

"You ought'a bring enough for three next time we meet, ah?" Her space buns jumped with enthusiasm and he was scolded.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know my eggs are the best' you sell."

"Watch yo' mouth, Witt." She smacked his arm, Elliott entered his car and started the engine. It took some time for it to warm back up and move. To the stores, buying milk and dry pasta and soup powder among other items. He was ready to go home.

And not to much surprise, Bloodhound was still there. It was comforting if anything, Elliott was used to being alone. He called out and waved, and they nodded a subtle greeting in reply. He skipped towards his house. 

-

Elliott's home was big and old, with a winding staircase and two floors, the exterior was a pleasant brick wall of red and his roof was another job to keep him occupied. He only used three of the six rooms, a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen that led off into the vast living area. This was enough for him, it felt homely, and he was afraid of ruining anything. His bedroom walls were plastered with jokes and pictures of himself, who else could he put up there? 

The stove spat as Elliott turned the gas on, he cooked eggs. It was nearly night, seven in the evening and the sun had set into a steep darkness. When the sunny sides had fried themselves into a bright contrast, Elliott slid them on a plate. He ate by himself, watching television in a search for companionship. He finished and hummed to the local music station as he washed spilled yolk from his plates. Pleasant, and it was the end of the day. Then, he looked out of the window. A figure still worked outside, tending to their garden.

"Bloodhound?"

Bloodhound looked at him, and in the dim light from his house, they looked as calm as before. Were they not tired?

"I made you a meal, I'm a great chef- well, that's what my mom says." He boasted in a familiar way, but it felt better when someone else was there.

They didn't budge, and he held the plate of egg and toast firmly. He walked between the plotted land and upon arriving beside Bloodhound, he sat his hand on their shoulder.

"C'mon, kid-"

"Finna, t'was a full day of work." They said finally, and they seemed to be leading the way inside to his house. The tabletops were unused, topped with dust and salt shakers, Elliott placed the plate calmly on their side.

"Ah man, I hope it's not cold, I'm not actually the best at cooking"

"It's fine," they said. Elliott waited in anticipation. Beneath the orange pumpkin was a gas mask, a helmet like the ones in old pictures of pilots, and orange goggles that framed their face nicely. Once they had pulled down the smaller, more practical mask, Elliott understood more. Their breathing was heavy and nearly sounded like a low whistle. Bloodhound looked to be the same age as him, but their face wore scars that were different to Elliott's own. They looked like a cracked porcelain doll, he couldn't help but stare, they were beautiful in an obscene sort of way. 

They shut their eyes and muttered a foreign prayer before digging in.

"Thank you," Bloodhound said, but they didn't look up. They didn't make a sound while eating, and Elliott picked his nails and watched for any sort of movement, after long enough, they were both looking at one another.

Then, the spell broke. Because Bloodhound was done, and they cleared their throat. "No! You don't have to clean up!" He was holding their clothed wrist.

They exchanged more looks, and Elliott's hand wove it's way up their arm. He was so lonely on this farm, he wanted to ask Bloodhound if they were also lonely like he was. His arm crossed down their neck.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Elliott?" What? Caught off guard, and he was thoroughly embarrassed as he moved away and laughed awkwardly. He would change the subject.

"You're not walking through the woods at this time of the day, Right?" He rubbed his neck.

"Er nú set, this is the only way." 

"Well, you can stay here! Can't you?"

Bloodhound stood in contemplation.

"Okay."

So they went to bed not long after. Bloodhound explained their gratitude, and Elliott dismissed it with jokes. He offered to sleep on the couch, but Bloodhound insisted that they were not to intrude. So the two shared his room. 

Bloodhound was warm, especially as they both slept with soft backs touching, an October chill filling his house. Neither had questioned whether there were spare beds in the three unused rooms on the second floor of his house.

Bloodhound made it a fashion to sleep in Elliott's bed, they didn't give excuses, but Elliott sure did. They ignored the misunderstanding and continued to work.

-

Sun shone deeply into Elliott's room. It was morning and he had awoken to loud chickens. Bloodhound was still asleep, and Elliott wouldn't dare stay to watch their peaceful sleep. In the shower, he whistled a happy tune and massaged shampoo into his curls. Then, he got dressed, a checkered red button-up and old jeans. Ah, he looked good, smoothing lines over his face, he fixed his beard.

When Elliott reappeared, Bloodhound was gone. They weren't in the kitchen, and their shoes had disappeared.

Whatever, he thought, because there was no serious way that they had gone off and left forever. He sure hoped not. But he fed the chickens, and then he renewed the hay bales, and even by the time it was supper, Bloodhound was not back. 

So Elliott ate alone.

Ah, this scarecrow had really brought his loneliness up to meet the surface. How many years had passed since Elliott had been on a date, Gone shopping with friends or watched horror movies in time for Halloween? Too many.

Then, Bloodhound came back. They didn't announce themselves, only going towards the shed to bring supplies, and Elliott wondered if they really knew what they were doing.

"Bloodhound!" He greeted happily, wrinkles formed at the edges of his eyes with a bright smile. "Do you know what you're doing with those?" He pointed at the oversized scissors, his rusty Shears.

"I believe so," they replied. Today, they wore a different colour of pumpkin on their head, it was a tinted white and looked less… real? Their always formal gowns in a worn out ombre of purples.

Elliott wasn't convinced, and he needed a reason to stick around. So he made his way over with hands on his hips and took the Shears from their hands. They made loud snaps as he showed examples of positions to cut trees in,

"Here, you try." So Bloodhound took the scissors from him, and they did it perfectly.

"No, no," he held their hands and tilted those warm wrists upwards. Their shoulders touched as Elliott leaned beside them. Ah, he was always a bad flirt. 

"I see," Bloodhound said. They were experienced, and didn't need help. Elliott was unaware, but Bloodhound could still thank him for the effort.

Except, he didn't let go.

"Elliott," Bloodhound finally said.

"Right, right, sorry-" he excused himself, smiling wider and with a foreign brightness on his tanned cheeks. Elliott wasn't good at this.

He cleaned out the pavements of autumn leaves and watched as Bloodhound snapped dead branches from beautiful trees. They were far away, and Elliott could tell just how they were moving around. He sighed, a tiring job that he had been doing for a good half an hour, and Bloodhound was no longer there, having moved deeper into the orchards. Elliott heaved a huff and began his new task, and then again, another, for many hours.

It was dark, and nighttime. Elliott entered the fawny fields of fruit trees, "Bloodhound?" He called out. 

No answer.

"it's late! You've done enough for today," He was never afraid of the dark, but in October, nearing Halloween, he couldn't help the chills that ran up his spine. He wasn't alone, and he liked Bloodhound, but they sure could be creepy. It had only been two days, was he so sure that he really knew who they were? Well, if they had shared a bed, defenseless, would Elliott still be alive? Crows cawed as they flew across treetops.

"Elliott," a strong hand gripped his wrist. Elliott jumped back, a scared gasp. 

"Bloodhound- you scared me, goddamnit!" he smiled, but his voice stuttered and he tried not to look into the fierce grin of their carved pumpkin mask. Instead, focusing on how passing headlights hit their necklaces, down the pipe to their breathing device. The small and dangling charms, their wooden knee-pads. They looked like a warrior, but quiet, and it nearly didn't suit their peaceful personality. 

"My apologies, I had never meant to frighten you"

"What? no! It's fine- I wasn't fr- frei, scared!" He dismissed and shrugged, Bloodhound gave a subtle nod. They were still holding his hand, but as soon as he had realised this action, they removed it towards their side. Was Elliott the only awkward human in the outskirts of solace?

"I have brought us a meal" 

Elliott's stomach grumbled.

"Speak of the devil!" He laughed, and Bloodhound wasn't amused, they both returned to his house.

The meal was pleasant. Bloodhound had presented a stone pot of meat stew, with potatoes and beans that Elliott recognised as the ones from his fields. It looked nice, it smelt nice. Bloodhound played out their ritual, first the pumpkin, then the gas mask, brushing dirt from their chin, a prayer, and only then would they eat. 

"Wow, this is amazing," Elliott whistled through spoonfuls. It was definitely peculiar, and the spices tasted different to anything that he'd had. Truthfully, he felt bad eating something that Bloodhound had made, nearly as though they had wanted to repay him. This time, he washed the stone plates and neatly stacked them near the pot of leftovers.

Bloodhound had left his home and he had the peeking sense that they were still around.

By the time it was eight o'clock, Elliott laughed at the blaring television and stacked egg cartons for tomorrow's gathering. He flipped through the catalogue of sales in his local supermarket. Something knocked over outside.

Elliott stood up, it could be the common wild boars or even a lost fox. He opened his door, it was dark and he shone his torch in the direction of the recurring noise. Another thud. 

"Hello?"

No reply, maybe Bloodhound was working. But as the loud bangs ran through the forest he began to understand. It was October, an October night and the harsh breeze outside was strong enough to knock his grandmother's socks off. Surely, the trees were falling down, and as he dodged a branch, scraping the cheek above his beard on the rock pile near his front door, he cursed and went back inside. He hoped that this wasn't an unlucky year, the farmland couldn't withstand another hurricane like the one that had happened when he was a reckless teenager.

Elliott stuck a bandage on his bleeding cheek and went off to bed, he sure hoped that Bloodhound was okay.

Light knocks tapped on his door, and at first Elliott thought that they were more stray branches. But reaching the third set, he could tell that they were rhythmic, consistent. He unlocked the keychain at it's top and shielded his eyes from the bright watchlight outside. 

"Bloodhound?" His voice sounded like sleep, looking up and down at them, they had a rifle and bag in their hands but Elliott wasn't awake enough to realise.

"What happened, it's a bit late" Bloodhound nodded, and they both went inside, the dimmer lights not truly helping. Bloodhound was leading Elliott to his own kitchen, and they pulled their jacket off.

"Woah' there, buddy-" he said as they pulled their loose trousers down, luckily, they wore white underclothes.

"My home has been blown down," they turned the tap on.

"Oh- I, uh, do you want to stay here?" He rubbed the soft fade of his hair. Now, Bloodhound leaned over the sink, and Elliott realised why they had undressed. Through the felted, nearly cobweb scars, there were thick gashes above their elbow, a scrape on their calf.

"Are they from the storm!?" Elliott pulled his medical supplies from the tall closet and tried to guide Bloodhound to his table.

They nodded, but didn't budge. "Yes, I apologize for my intrusion"

"No, no, it's fine." Elliott laughed it off, and when the running water turned clear, Bloodhound finally complied. Elliott dabbed iodine on the wounds, and then he padded them with butterfly strips. Their arms wore freckles, and the porcelain complexion of scars faded into their shirt sleeves. He wanted to ask where they were from, if this person with the foreign accent and the pumpkin mask was a forgotten warrior from some other planet.

"Where are these from?" His eyelashes followed his fingers, and his fingers traced their warm arm in a comforting way.

"Well," Bloodhound turned to him. They turned their whole body, and when Elliott finally placed the white plaster on their skin, they pulled away.

"These are for my courageous Skulda-lið, my friends and family"

"Your friends? Like, uh, the ones that-" he whispered the last part, as though forbidden to talk of the subject. "Died?"

"Yes, our Allfather had decided upon such a massacre. He sent the chilly nights of chemical cold to our villages, and then the prowlers, and by the time that they had left, everyone was no longer. I, the only one, and as I fought, the frostbite surrounded me."

Elliott listened in silence, and he couldn't even think of something to say, because, truly, there was nothing appropriate. Then, Bloodhound's arm rose to meet his face. They rubbed the textured stripes across his skin, running below his eye and across his nose, above his eyebrow. Elliott felt warm, he felt oh-so warm and his heart beat quickly, reminding him of childhood crushes.

"Where have you earned your own?" Elliott stifled an inappropriate laugh, Bloodhound's hand still cuffing his face softly.

"When I was a kid, yeah? I used to run around, and then my brothers were climbing this tree- and I really wanted to prove myself, so I somehow got myself up there. And then," he chuckled his way through the story, nothing as deep as Bloodhound's had been and he felt guilty. "I fell! and my brothers were all laughing, and then my mother shouted at me”

"Oh," Bloodhound pulled their hand away from his face, but Elliott's cheeks were still a deep red, because they were leaning into their palm and humming what seemed to be a humble chuckle through their mask.

"Bloodhound?"

"My apologies, felagi, this is not an acceptable response" But instead of replying, Elliott just leaned into Bloodhound's shoulder and laughed louder. He couldn't hear the storm outside over his own heart.

They slept in the same bed again, but Elliott mustered up the strength to watch Bloodhound's back, their figure moving as they breathed heavy.

-

A bright day, although through the windows there was no shine, only clouds. And Elliott groaned into his pillow, and tousled back into his blankets, and then he turned to face Bloodhound. 

They were still sleeping, and had turned to face him. With short eyelashes that were nearly the same shade as their skin, they looked peaceful and stern, and then Elliott jumped out of his bed, because he couldn't stand the feeling in his lower abdomen as he watched their moving mouth and felt their warm breath against his skin. He had a cold shower, watched himself in the mirror, tousled his hair, fixed his beard. Then, he got dressed and made breakfast, but for two.

"Bloodhound, hey, Bloodhound," he called them. They didn't move, they looked so peaceful, Elliott sighed.

"Hey, Bloodhound, it's morning" He whispered, and nudged their arm just above the healing wound. They looked warm.

Their eyes blew open quickly, and he jumped away with an awkward laugh. Scary, but not after they sat up and sighed, stretching their toned shoulders.

"You can take a shower, and I dunno if you have any clothes- well, you can use some of mine, we're about the same size. I have a great build"

Elliott winked. Bloodhound nodded, unresponsive to his attempt at a flirty joke. He wasn't a good jester in the morning.

Bloodhound had a shower, and it was long as so that it would make Elliott think about asking to join next time. He would probably be shut down, it made him laugh.

Bloodhound looked good in his clothes. Bigger in width, but they reached around and hid Bloodhound like a winter's blanket. They weren't happy, and picked at the fabric in subtle discomfort.

"Wow! You're, uh, wow" Elliott itched his chin with an awkward smile, Bloodhound, wearing a different mask to any that he'd seen before. Heavenly and made of what seemed to be the fur of a white animal, but so fierce, with glaring goggles and an inbuilt gas mask. They sat to eat, prayed their prayer, pulled their mask off and ripped Elliott's fresh bread into threads. Elliott watched in intrigue, intrigue and a blind desire, eating his own food.

"D'you think we have any chances of recovering your house?" 

"We must wait and see, I will leave when the sun is at a peak." They looked up at Elliott for a split second, something on the tip of their tongue, and then continued eating quietly.

"Right. I'll come with'cha, you need backup" and then he gave a try at some heroic smile. Their mouth curved up, hah, even Bloodhound couldn't deny it.

The sun did come up to its peak, was what Elliott thought as he walked outside and hid his eyes from the shining sun. Bloodhound also thought so, and Elliott watched in awe as they pulled his sweater over their head and pushed the sleeves of their long undershirt to rest on somehow attractive elbows. 

"I will lead the way, don't stray, the forest is unforgiving." And then they walked down a trail, Elliott thought about how warm it was for an October day, how weird it was to see the skies so clear, leaves still falling even in this change of weather. He often spoke about his thoughts, and Bloodhound would hum as a sign that they were listening, giving him small comments and facts. Then, as they left the trail and walked deeper into the woods, following nothing that Elliott could see, especially not when Bloodhound stopped at broken trees and passed a hand down the abrupt stomps; his thoughts strayed towards the ruckus that the storm had spread throughout this beautiful forest.

"Are you okay with this?" He asked, skipping so that he was beside Bloodhound instead of behind. Bloodhound looked around, and then at Elliott, eyebrows shifting beneath the tinted goggles of their mask. 

"This is natural,"

"Yeah, but-"

"It saddens me, what her stormr' does to the weak life. But, Felagi, this is the fate that all beings face". And they brought their arm up into a fist, walking onwards in a way that Elliott envied, but it was also attractive, and now Elliott was falling for someone that didn't have a jack-o'-lantern head! He was progressing!

Wow, the walk was long. Soon, their conversation ran dry, and Elliott wondered if Bloodhound liked music.

"Wow, you walk this every day? No wonder you're so fit!" He laughed tactlessly.

The sun was still up, and Elliott felt like he was melting. Then, a breeze began to occur more, and Elliott was as cautious as he was glad. 

Finally, Bloodhound stopped, they pointed at a pile of crushed branches.

"Are you sure' this is it?" Elliott asked, because the pile was covering what seemed to be a stone height, a mountain.

"Of course", Bloodhound replied.

They both began to uncover the fallen branches and rocks, Elliott smiled as his muscles flexed beneath his tight t-shirt, watching Bloodhound, who did it without making a huff louder than their usual. With a sigh, hands on his hips, Elliott looked into a formed opening to a cave. The door was probably on the other side of solace, with metal hinges that were broken.

"Damn, talk about unexpected!" Bloodhound laughed. It was only short and a little above their rare chuckle, but Elliott found himself staring with red on his cheeks and something short of surprise on his face. 

He wished he could see the smile that read through their words, "let's go inside".

The interior was big and old, with polished wooden bark and candles. A small table, a bed and a misplaced fridge with a cable that led off into a hole. Much like Elliott, Bloodhound didn't touch the borders of their room, that led off into a deeper cave. Elliott wouldn't dare to ask why, he bit his lips around it. 

"Can you save it?" Elliott questioned jokingly, because he had expected a bit and had gotten a cave that looked like it could survive a nuclear apocalypse.

"Perhaps," and they turned to him with their fingers analysing beneath their mask.

"What is it?" Elliott wasn't the best at reading emotions, especially not through a mask. Bloodhound hummed, as though contemplating the necessity of their reply.

"It is a long walk,"

"Yeah, sure is! Thanks for agreeing!"

"I enjoy it, but it seems meaningless." Elliott didn't particularly understand, and he rubbed his head in confusion, crossed eyebrows.

"You can move your things to my house, I mean, if you want to- I have tons of space", he grinned.

"I think I'll do that," Bloodhound walked through their room, a ceremony of departure. "Thank you, Vinr."

Elliott welled up holding a backpack of antiques. Bloodhound held the heavy stuff, and they still seemed to walk like a feather. They both walked in the comfort of the afternoon breeze, back to the farm. It felt like a good use of the spare room in his apartment, that was dusty and old. Bloodhound thanked him numerous times and was laughed off, now, in the evening of the day, they sat down for a meal.

"How're you feeling?" Bloodhound batted their eyes in His direction, their mouth flattened into a line.

"I don't know."

"I mean- not to pry, but are you really okay with leaving your home?" he continued to coax an answer from the person across from him.

"It gets cold in the vinter'," Elliott laughed. Bloodhound let out a huff as well, but it resembled a joyful scoff, their laughs were always cut short, Elliott would fix his beard in interest at their peculiarities and pull his bag of their supples quicker. 

By the time that they had arrived at the farm, it was dark. Elliott went inside, and after putting their equipment in a spare room of Elliott's dusty and old house, Bloodhound disappeared. This didn't really bother Elliott, who made a nice Pea soup, but while he mushed it into liquid a while later, he thought that it sure had been a while. Bloodhound was independent, damn, they weren't a child. Elliott walked outside and felt his hair flying with the strong breeze. He had zero navigation skills, truly, but after checking the orchard, and then the chicken coop, he found Bloodhound in a quiet shed that he had forgotten existed. 

He stretched out the first word, "What are you up to?"

Bloodhound looked out, they wore an evening attire of white quilts. No pretty face cover, no pumpkin, only a gas mask. Their eyes looked neat from the soft light of candles, short locks of hair, gloveless hands that looked soft to the touch. 

"Come, sit" They pat a pillow on the floor beside them, Elliott crossed his legs on the floor, feeling like a child in a school. Bloodhound was carving pumpkins, Elliott smiled around his words: "I don't grow any pumpkins on my farm."

"I know," he grinned towards them, pulling different shapes of pumpkins, colorful in complexion and with carved faces and examining the texture in his palms. 

"So, hah- where'd you get em'?"

They looked at eachother, a long stare and Elliott overlooked their shoulders, wrapped in soft fur, to their relaxed eyebrows. He wanted to kiss them, but it wouldn't be appropriate, it was never appropriate, and their mask obscured his view of probably-crisp lips. He felt tired after walking all day, his eyes felt weird.

"They're ours, I grew them." Elliott was certain that this time he could hear a smile through their voice. Elliott observed for minutes, they didn't feel long, laying back, watching their handiwork and sharing stories and jokes.

"Right," he slapped his thigh and stood up, Bloodhound's eyes followed him. "Let's get back home!"

"Fine." They took his hand when he offered it, they were so close to him, he could feel the heat from their body. They walked their way through the fields of wheat, more days of whisky winds and work passed.

-

Elliott pulled the blinds of his windows up, and at the sign of a sun, he knew what day it was. Today was harvesting day.

Bloodhound wasn't asleep, no, they weren't even in his room, because they had made a home of the dark room on the second floor. Elliott felt so lonely, and he regretted everything, he should've told Bloodhound that the rooms were locked. Well, at least he was comfortable sleeping with no pants on, a bare chest wasn't enough to keep him cool.

It smelt good outside, like meat. So Elliott got dressed, a checkered button up and jeans, and he buttoned the white bobs into their holes while walking downstairs and decided that he would leave three undone instead of two. 

"What's cooking, Bloodhound?" He laughed at his terrible southern accent. Bloodhound turned to him, wearing a brown pumpkin that wore a softer expression than the ones on their previous masks. 

"Sit down, felagi, we will feast on this day." They sounded so happy, like they had finally caught up on some well needed sleep and Elliott complied with a glad smile. 

It was meat with a creamy sauce, and Bloodhound treated him like a king. They set the table, served Elliott and they rubbed his shoulder before sitting down across from him. Elliott blushed, and he didn't miss a second of praising their cooking and laughed and smiled and tried to cool his face with water from a clay jug that was theirs. And when Bloodhound hummed replies, smiled around their fork, oh, those small moles on their smooth skin, the cobweb design that accentuated their jawline.

"It's the perfect weather," Elliott teased with a grin and a finger on his neck. 

"The perfect weather for what, felagi?" Bloodhound also smirked, although much smaller and softer. They were playing along, it was barely a question.

"It's time to harvest m- our fruits." 

They ate quickly, and organised baskets among other things. Leaving the house, Elliott needed not hide his eyes, as there was no sun, only clouds. Elliott joked on their way to the orchard.

Fruits in bags, bare berries, bright colours of orange leaves that loitered the earth. His boots made crunches, even with a short inspection whenever he could, a day for picking the ropes before they would fall, there were still crushed pomegranates on the floor, rotten. Bloodhound also tutted, and with a bag of equipment on the shoulder, they swayed with every step in an attractive way. Beautiful, and Elliott wished that he could see their hair flying within the breeze, but they wore their pumpkin mask.

"Are you not hot?" He wanted to make a joke and he stopped his lips a moment before it left them. Bloodhound stepped beside him, and they hummed, no answer. They didn't remove their mask, but they pulled their jacket off and moved it onto the roads, sighing in some sort of relief.

Reaching with toned arms, they both untied bags and neatly piled ripe fruits in their designated baskets. Apples, Pomegranates, grapefruit, as time ticked, in silence. Elliott whistled occasionally, and Bloodhound seemed to stay near.

Time passed, and the sun rose into its prime position, through clouds, Elliott wiped his forehead with a sigh. He was feeling hot, and hungry, and he would usually harvest his fruits shirtless, even in swimming trunks. He couldn't believe that he was embarrassed by someone, this felt like he was back in middle school.

Elliott bit into the red apple, juice dripping down his chin and towards his chest. He sure hoped it looked attractive and not just disgusting, it tickled. He made sure to stand as close to Bloodhound as possible.

They walked over to him, dropping their sack of fruits onto the rocky lane. They observed for a short second, and then pulled their gloves off.

Bloodhound's hand was warm, and it wiped the sweet juice from his neck, down his shirt. They pulled their pumpkin helmet up, and then the gas mask below down, and licked their fingers. Elliott was hot, but it wasn't just the weather, and it felt like a deliberate tease. He nearly felt bad, skin salty with sweat, and Bloodhound pulled their equipment back down and continued in a familiar silence. Elliott took a couple of minutes to recover, and by the time he was done, he noticed everything around him.

The trees were bare, barer than ever before, bare of dead fruits and of unripe pods. Only stalks and branches, some with leaves, some without, the sun setting at seven, so early.

"Bloodhound," he rested his arm on their back, it felt thick as iron. With no jacket, they wore a short sleeved tunic, there was a faded tattoo on their shoulder, over the webbing and the fresh scar. "Whad'dya say you help me get these fruits into the truck?" 

Bloodhound looked up at him, they didn't seem to mind the warmth between them.

"Alright." Elliott grunted as he pulled a basket of pomegranates all the way to his van, Bloodhound made quiet grunts of struggle, but got through the piles nonetheless. He was not the person that had to sort them into packages for the stores to get, he wasn't thankful enough for that.

When he finally sat on his couch, watching Bloodhound close the door, he was more tired than ever before. They both ate, Elliott watched television.

Bloodhound made a statement, "I will go and have a shower."

Elliott hummed, he looked up, around for them, his nape not leaving the back of the chair.

"Can I come with you?" He laughed at himself, Bloodhound walked back towards him. They extended a hand.

"Come, bóndi." Elliott grabbed it, and his energy was back in an exhaustive way. He felt a gurgle in his stomach, so many butterflies and bees and some sort of fluster that he couldn't control. Bloodhound was chiseled with muscles and Elliott charmed his way into the warmth through kisses, jokes, no explanation. Bloodhound ran their fingers through his hair.

-

The night had come, tapping on windows, whistles of air outside. It was raining, this signified winter. It signified the start of snow, of cold nights and mornings of mist. 

Bloodhound's hand brushed his beard gently, they turned over to face him in his bed. Close, but this time, they weren't asleep, only watching with soft eyes, heavy breaths. 

"Are we on the same page, Elliott?" What did they mean?

"I think so- uh, wh, what do you mean?" Bloodhound sighed, they were smiling small. 

"þú, mir, us."

"Bloodhound," he gripped their face like they did his. "I don't think I've ever truly fallen in love, not until you, do I look like I act like this around others?" But he did, except it never felt like this, he felt good and satisfied with their accomplishments. Felt good when his jokes landed and when they laughed, when he flirted and they flirted back. 

"Alright." So they pressed foreheads together, shutting eyes.

"Y'know it's winter, right," 

"So it is, are you excited?"

"What? No! It's freezing." And Bloodhound laughed into him, he also laughed. 

"You're sure to get cold by yourself, I think that you should come back to my bed."

"Very wise observation, Elliott"

"Yeah, people tell me that a lot," they weren't going to sleep any time soon.

It was raining in the morning as well, a storm brewing. Bloodhound had begun to wear soft and thicker gowns, perfect for Elliott to curl up with on the couch as they read their Nordic books. They smelt like cinnamon, and their winter masks and hats looked better than the pumpkins.

Bloodhound made sure to move back into his room.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make Bloodhound leave at the end, I'm so happy I didn't go all angst 😎
> 
> Please leave kudos on my work so that I make more in the future!


End file.
